


Cosmic Tides

by aesthetically_audacious



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, its more of a sort of what i wish the companions were situation, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:15:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthetically_audacious/pseuds/aesthetically_audacious
Summary: As always, it all went wrong, so after a stressful space situation, the Doctor and her new companion talk. It's not perfect, but it helps.
Kudos: 1





	Cosmic Tides

They stumble back into the TARDIS, limping on fractured limbs and nursing broken skin. It would be easier for them to cling to one another for support, than hang from the railings alone, but the railings are much simpler to cling to, so they choose instead to drag themselves along until they can crumple onto the cool steel floor. 

The Doctor knows that in a moment she will have to lead them both to the medical room, put on a bubbly demeanour as she shows her new companion the wonders of modern science. She knows she will babble on about the intricacies of cell replication and display the beautifully artistic nature of the herbs from the healing church, and watch Allie grit her teeth through the seething pain of bone reconnecting to bone. She knows she will have to become The Doctor in a moment, but it had been a long day. So, for a moment, she sits. 

The silence is oppressive, filled with unspoken words. The TARDIS, it seems, has read the room, and so not even the quiet hum of machinery fills the space between them. There was a time, in years past, that it would have been broken, by screeching laughter, or quiet tears. People she had known knowing what to say. To break the tension, or to soothe the wounds. But now it hangs there, and she has no strength to stop it. 

“That... was tough.” 

Allie speaks, finally. It’s half-hearted, intended as an understatement. Intended as a conversation starter. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Allie seems startled by this, or she assumes she does, but she can’t see her face to check, because her eyes are trained on the grating, refusing to make eye contact, hoping for something to crawl out and flay her alive. 

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t know. Nobody could’ve expected the Algolians to pull out of the trade deal. It was completely-” 

“Stop.” 

If she had it in her, she would’ve cringed at her tone. It was blank, and uncaring. It was cruel. But she didn’t. Have the strength to fight herself. So, it sat like an acrid stench in the air between them. 

They had been travelling together for a few weeks now, and not every adventure had been like this. Some had even gone completely to plan. She liked Allie, she was funny, and blunt. Quiet, unless she had something to say, but she always had something to say to the doctor. 

She was sweet, in an underhanded way, and was prone to take back her thoughtful actions if she was caught out on them. She was a good person to travel with. So where was this anger coming from? 

“You don’t know me.” 

The words come out in a rush, her tone low, and threatening, and spiteful. And once they’re released, the room goes dead silent. The two women stare at each other, fragile, and shaky, and afraid, suddenly, that they’ll actually manage to lose this. 

The Doctor shuffles backwards, further away, and sits down on the steps, suddenly exhausted. She thinks, for a moment, that she should’ve installed chairs after all. The cool steel of the floor is seeping through her trousers, chilling her, and still the silence reigns. 

She wonders if she ever lost anyone like this before, by driving them out when she wants to pull them in, by hating their naivety even as she fosters it. She thinks back to Donna, who knew her, and to Martha, who tried, and she wonders when she lost the capability for such closeness. 

“I know.” comes the reply, echoing in the empty room. 

The Doctor looks up, in surprise. She’s almost forgotten her harsh words, so bogged down in memory and regrets. She meets Allie’s eyes, so full of hope and wonder, and feels, deep in her bones, how tired she feels. Of running from who she is, of hiding it from these wonderful, hopeful creatures, like somehow that might spare her from their judgement. She thinks if she has to do it again, she might go insane. Really, properly world-endingly insane. 

“I know I don’t know you, not properly, but the thing is, I’ve seen that look in your eyes.” She pauses, as if willing the words to come to her, and the Doctor can feel the change in the air, the moment this woman professes her undying dedication to someone who she thinks is her saviour. She can already feel the urge to jump up and switch tact, pretend the pep talk worked and pull up a planet she can whisk them away to. To staple a bloody grin in place and keep it there until this one dies, or leaves her like they all do. 

Allie pauses, as though worried her next words will come across wrong, but she has never been one to soften her herself, so the blow comes down just as heavy. 

“It’s Anger. I’ve seen it in my own. It’s anger, and grief, and anger at the grief, and shame. More than anything, shame. I’ve seen it before. I feel it, all the time” She says, with her hand balled up by her side. “I don’t know what you’ve done across the cosmos, I don’t know how many worlds have died because of you. I can’t trust that you’ve always had good intentions, or always done what’s best, but I don’t care. Because I’m not here to travel with a god.” 

The silence holds. The Doctor is sat frozen, still looking at her, still wondering if this will go down the road she has travelled so many times. But it’s a simple concept. And somewhere, the strings of the universe seem to be aligning to say “yes! let her try, let her try to love you!” So she listens. 

“I’m not here to travel with a perfect tour guide, or a benevolent ruler. I’m here to travel with you.” 

And just like that, it lifts. The pressure on her soul eases, just a fraction, but it feels like she is floating. With this one, maybe just this one, she doesn’t have to pretend. The steel warms beneath her skin, but she stands, taking a single, unsure step towards her. She doesn’t quite know what she intends to do on her feet, but then she never really does anyway. 

“There isn’t some cosmic scale that tips over into Good or Evil, the universe isn’t weighing your sins. You’re just a person, who very clearly needs a friend. And I’m just a person who wants to be one.” 

How very human of her, is her first thought. Humans putting love and friendship above all else. It’s naive, of course, but it’s not stupid. And maybe she doesn’t need to read into it beyond that. She remembers again, those she’d travelled with. Amy, who chose love, Bill, who was saved by it, Rose, who she burned a sun to say goodbye to. 

She suddenly, viciously, wishes she could turn it all back- knows she would do anything to keep the people she loves by her side, even if it was evil, or unreasonable, or impossible. That feeling burns through her veins, bringing pain, and sorrow, but real, genuine, feeling. For the first time in decades. 

And before she lets herself get carried away with it all, she realises Allie is expecting an answer. As if she could say anything else to that. 

“I was the reason Pompeii burned. I pulled the lever that killed all those people.” 

It wasn’t what she meant to say, but it was what she needed to. She watched Allie’s expression, waiting for surprise, or resentment, or curiosity. Instead, she meets cool acceptance, and then, after a moment; 

“When I was in year 6, I dug up an ants' nest and threw as many of them as I could into a bucket just so I could dump it in Jason Barsinky’s lap.” 

Bewildered, the Doctor laughed. It was an aborted thing; her body still couldn’t stand to maintain any real humour, but it was real. It was the most genuine laugh she’d had in years, and she wordlessly took another step forward, suddenly certain of what she’d do when she got there. 

Her nerve failed her halfway there, but her intention was clear, and even when she froze, with an image of herself stuck in her mind, bloody and tear stained, weak and pathetic, Allie knew what she needed. For that bright, incredible moment, she knew her, and she wrapped her arms around her, strong, and just tight enough to feel safe. They held each other for a long time like that, With the tension slowly leaking out of them, out of the air, until they were just two women, battle-torn, and holding each other close to tell the universe they wouldn’t be apart. 

After a long moment, they slowly moved apart, changed, but not all that different. 

Quietly, the Doctor took her hand and moved them towards the medical room. The silence was filled with understanding now, and the TARDIS, now quietly whirring away, lit up their path as they began to walk. When they got there, she knew, she would ramble on about the supplies just the same, and her facade wasn’t gone just because someone had seen through it, but for now the quiet was allowed. It was understood. It was calm. And so, she settled back into it with a sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> I am thinking of writing more of these two, so if you liked it keep an eye out! It's my first actual post on here so! Hope you liked it!


End file.
